Page 62 of Hometown Halftime

I sit on the exam table and let my gaze drift to the anatomical poster on the wall across from me. A perfect spine, each vertebrae stacked neatly on top of the next, clean and aligned.

Mine doesn’t feel like that anymore.

A knock sounds before the door opens again, and Dr. Patel steps inside with a tablet tucked under her arm. She carries herself with a calm steadiness that makes me sit a little straighter.

“Kinsey,” she says, offering a warm smile. “I’ve reviewed the notes from your primary care physician. I’ve looked at the X-rays you already had done.”

“Right. She said everything looked normal, guess I’m wondering why I’m here.”

Dr. Patel sets the tablet on the counter and leans against it, her attention fully on me. “X-rays are helpful for structural issues. They show us fractures, significant wear, things like that. But they don’t always show what’s happening beneath the surface.”

She asks more questions, digging a little deeper this time. When the stiffness started. Whether movement helps or makes it worse. If I’ve noticed fatigue, swelling, or anything that feels off. I answer all the questions honestly. After a moment, she nods to herself.

“I’d like to order a blood panel and an MRI.”

“What are you looking for?” I ask nervously.

“Inflammation markers, primarily,” she explains. “Sometimes persistent back stiffness in younger patients can point to inflammatory conditions rather than a straightforward injury.”

“Is that…bad?”

“Not necessarily,” she says, calm and reassuring. “But it’s something we want to rule out—especially since your X-rays didn’t show anything obvious. Once we get those results, hopefully, we can have a better path forward.”

She turns back to the computer, entering the orders while I sit there, trying to process everything.

“The MRI will give us a clearer look at what’s happening in your spine,” she continues. “And the blood work will help us determine whether your immune system is playing a role.”

“Okay.”

She smiles again, softer this time. “In the meantime, keep moving. Gentle activity is usually beneficial for this kind of stiffness.”

She hands me a printout with instructions for scheduling the MRI and directions to the lab. I thank her, hop down from the table, and make my way back to the front desk, setting up what I can before heading to the floor below to get my blood drawn at the lab.

When I step outside, the late afternoon sun hits warm against my skin, bright enough that I have to squint for a second as my eyes adjust. I dig my sunglasses out of my bag and walk to my car.

I think about all the copays, time, and hassle all this is going to incur. Thank God Gordy’s has a good insurance plan, but all these specialist visits and now an MRI are surely going to put a dent in my savings. And as I climb into the driver’s seat of my car, I feel a bubble of frustration rising in my chest.

I turn on the car and tilt my head back against the headrest, stamping down the feelings rising inside me. I guess I’ll just have to keep going to appointments until I get an answer.

Chapter twenty-eight

Riley

By eight thirty on Saturday morning, I’ve made two questionable decisions in my life.

The first was agreeing to help host ‘Yoga with the Coaches’ at the Bendy Barn.

The second was wearing a fitted gray T-shirt that seemed harmless in my bedroom.

The Bendy Barn sits on the east side of Cedar Falls, in an old, renovated structure with whitewashed siding, flower boxes overflowing beneath the windows, and a hand-painted sign swinging gently over the wide front doors. The place smells like incense and essential oils, and the scent helps to calm my nerves.

Walking through the front door, it’s one large room with a desk just inside. High wooden beams stretch overhead, dark against the bright white walls, and sunlight pours through the tall windows, warming the polished floors. Neat rows of mats stretch from front to back, and a folding table near the entrance holds bottled water, bananas, protein bars, and a donation jar for the Cedar Falls Girls’ Rugby team. Outside, a chalkboard sign proudly announces Yoga with the Coaches. All proceeds support Cedar Falls Girls’ Rugby, complete with a doodle of someone attempting tree pose in cleats.

Kinsey stands at the back of the room, beside the instructor, flipping through the sign-in sheets. She’s in black leggings that are going to test my focus and a cropped Cedar Falls Rugby T-shirt that shows a sliver of her stomach. Her hair is piled into a messy knot that somehow makes her look even more put together, and her tattoos are on full display.

And then, because the universe enjoys my suffering, I notice the soft pink polish on her toes.

I’m not prepared for how beautiful she is. But then again, I don’t think I ever am.